


Fondue for Two (And More!)

by NevillesGran



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Girl Genius Event Week 2018, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevillesGran/pseuds/NevillesGran
Summary: Colette treats Agatha, Tarvek, and Gil to dinner for their anniversary.





	Fondue for Two (And More!)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Day 7 prompt: Cheesecake/ **Beefcake** /Actual Cake.

Tarvek stopped with one foot out of the carriage, flushing so suddenly that Agatha grew concerned rather than annoyed that he’d made her run into his back.

“Tarvek?”

“No,” he said firmly, spun and pushed her back into the carriage. “No, absolutely not. Colette-”

“Yes, cherí?” The Mistress of Paris called sweetly from the sidewalk, having disembarked without any of Tarvek’s apparent trouble.

"You are the worst. As a political entity We appreciate the thoughtful gift but privately, you are the worst and we are-”

This was the point at which Agatha pushed past him to jump out of the carriage herself. They were in Paris, of course, surrounded by the shimmer and shine of a warm summer evening in the City of Light. Voices drifted from cafés, theaters, and passerby, not a few pointing excitedly at the sight of their Mistress taking the Heterodyne and the Storm King out for dinner.

Agatha really wasn’t certain what the big deal was, for Tarvek at least. It was a nice anniversary present, and this looked like a perfectly good fondue place. The sign over the door featured two beautiful women clothed only in well-placed drips of chocolate and cheese, respectively, but this  _was_  Paris. At least neither of them was painted to look like her.

“It looks like a perfectly good fondue place to me,” she said, turning back to her erstwhile husband and their friend. “Is Gil going to arrive on time?”

“He’s already here.” Colette smiled the smile of a woman who had long-since accepted that the people of her city were entirely happy to be ruled by a woman whose title made her sound like the ultimate demimondaine. “I thought you might need some prompting.”

With the combination of begrudgement, offense, and guilty shame that only he could truly manage, Tarvek followed them onto the sidewalk. He caught Agatha’s arm immediately.

“What Mistress Voltaire isn’t saying,” he informed Agatha in an undertone, “is that Fondue for Two (And More!) is not a restaurant. It’s high-class, but it’s entirely a den of inequity. I’m not surprised that Gil is-” 

He visibly remembered that he was no longer in university, and turned to Colette with a sharp, “Wait, Gil is already-”

“You don’t want to miss your reservation!” Colette cried, and clapped her hands. The sidewalk beneath them lurched suddenly forward, the front door opening just in time for them to not crash. Inside, the floor continued to ripple, carrying them past a surprised greeter, a chocolate fountain topped with a very nude angel, and through another door. it clicked shut behind them.

 Agatha would have been more annoyed at that, were she not fully distracted by what was in front of them. It surpassed a mere chocolate fountain. There were two entire pools, each easily large enough for three people. That was clearly the intention, as supported by one rack of towels and bathing suits - perhaps “waterproof lingerie” was the more appropriate term - and one rack of. Well. A variety of devices, mostly only mechanical in terms of straps and cinches. There was also a table of assorted fruits and crackers, such as one might dip in cheese or chocolate - of which one pool each was filled. Somehow, the scents blended into something euphoric. A door in the opposite wall was marked “SHOWERS”.

There was also Gil, reclining between them. He had already been in the righthand pool, or perhaps had it arranged on him by somebody else, because Gil did have artistic flair, but not the sort that led him to strategically place strands of glistening, golden, not-quite-molten cheese dripping down his broad shoulders and arms...trailing along the lines of his tightly muscled abdomen...discreet droplets along those tanned thighs...

He startled when they were swept in, hands leaping to hide the cheese-patterned,  _very_  tight underwear that was the only scrap of cloth on his body. His blush matched Tarvek’s, and the one Agatha was probably wearing by now. It was very hot all of a sudden, no doubt in order to keep the fondue pools at the right temperature.

Her memory flashed, horrifically, to something she had furiously shouted [the first time](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20030725#.W8LpgRNKi8U) she met Otilia-then-Von Pinn, and who had been in the room at the time and the fact that Colette, while being mysterious about where she was treating them to dinner, had mentioned that Sleipnir had assured her that Agatha would love it.

She was undone by the way Gil, they’d been swept in, had been staring at one cheese-coated finger with the intent curiosity of a slightly bored scientist, tongue just poking forth with the intent to lick.

She clutched Tarvek’s arm for balance, though the floor had stopped moving, and found him leaning back. They were both, Agatha thought, wearing entirely too many clothes. Particularly relatively.

“Er,” Gil said as he scrambled to his feet. He pushed his hair back from his face, and got cheese in it. “This was Colette’s idea, and I was manhandled - cityhandled - into it.”

“That’s very rude,” Agatha said faintly. “It’s  _our_  anniversary.  _We_  should be the only ones doing any manhandling.”

(The clothing did not last long. The cheese and chocolate, in spark-made refilling pools, did.)


End file.
